


Waking Safely Alone

by RaeC



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-05-28
Updated: 2002-05-28
Packaged: 2017-11-10 11:56:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/466006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaeC/pseuds/RaeC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You hurt. You want. You ache. You trust. You need. You want forever. You bleed. You.*feel*. You love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waking Safely Alone

**Author's Note:**

> This story first appeared in Genesis and edited with the help of the mIRC crew. I love you guys.

Waking Safely Alone  
by Rae C

**Prologue**

Waking. 

Listening. 

Alone. 

The night is curiously cold and silent. Your breath but small puffs in the chilled air. The house empty; still, quiet. Not sure how you've come to this place, what woke you, blinded as you are by the dark, by the dream still trapped behind sightless eyes. 

It's all gone. The illusion is shattered by reality as it descends. Memory crashes down on you with each breath taken in. And the shaking begins. Loss. Pain. Grateful for the shadows that hide your tears. 

It's all an illusion. A little trick that you use to make yourself forget. A place to pretend you don't feel need. An illusion of safety in which to hide. At least until night falls and the pain no longer has to be silent. 

The dream is silenced by reality. Two years; two endless years, then you watch as everything ends. 

And you remember that once upon a time you loved. And lost. 

**I. Rain Falls in Winter**

~~*@*~~ 

Pushing, pulling Struggling to find our way home. 

~~~ 

The pain drives deep, his voice ripping at you, shredding you with each word spoken. 

"That's the difference between you and me, Jack. I don't turn my back on my friends." 

All you want to do is strike out, lash out, give as good as you get. Instead you hide behind the walls you've so carefully built. "What in hell's name are you talking about, Daniel?" 

He gets right in your face, eyes blazing, cheeks red. "What I'm talking about is the way that you've been shutting me out. The way you've been shutting *everyone* out since you got back from Eudora? What's the matter with you?" His eyes cloud over as he quiets. "Do you really hate me after all? Can't you let it go?" 

No, you don't hate him. Far from it. But you also no longer have the power to breach the distance that's between you. The distance that you created, encouraged. And so you say the only thing you have left to say. "I don't hate you, Daniel." 

You can see he doesn't believe you. "Could have fooled me. Never mind, I'll see you later, Jack." And he walks away. 

It's over. Finally. You breathe a sigh of relief that the looks and the questions will end. So why don't you feel happy? It's what you wanted, isn't it? "Daniel?" He stops, his back to you, stiff and unyielding. Do something! Say something! You can't stand here forever, locked in silence. 

He breaks the quiet for you, his words flaying you again, bitter, resentful. "Why, Jack? Just give me one good reason. That's all I need, one. That's all I've ever needed." 

And you don't have an answer for him. As he walks away you finally realize just what it is your stubbornness has cost you. You haven't just lost a... 

Go ahead and say it, that's what he was... 

Lover. A lover. You test it out on your lips for the first time. Lover, someone you make love with, want to be with, who makes you feel alive. A year and a half it's taken you to get this far. 

Was it worth it? 

~~<<->>~~ 

You can't go back. There aren't any 'do overs' in life. Everyone knows it. Hell even the "proverbial hard-ass, hardcore, military man who isn't supposed to know anything beyond a dozen ways to kill an enemy and just get to the damn point already would you" knows it. 

Not that that is who you are...just the impression you like to create. It worked. Too damn well, apparently. 

You just wanted to let go. Turn your back and walk away. Pretend *it* never happened. But you couldn't. You could still feel his hands on you, taking, giving. A touch here, a caress there. You can't forget. It's always...there. Every time you see his face, hear his voice, memory haunts you. Now, as you drink yourself slowly towards oblivion, all you can see, hear and taste is him, and you know as each sip passes your lips that it's one sip closer to the end. 

A friend is dead. 

His friend. 

And you killed him. 

He says he's fine. But you don't believe it. You know better. Who'll be there this time to help chase the pain away? Not you. 

~~<<->>~~ 

And you remember... 

You watched him walking into the SGC dragging his pack behind him. It had been one of those long frustrating trips, and every square inch of your body hurts. Emotional pain, but it left its mark seething beneath a mask of indifference. You'd only know if you knew him well; if you had the ability to see beneath the various shields he hides behind. The rest of his teammates wandered off down the hall, leaving him to follow in their wake. You don't think he could put up with a long debriefing today. You're both too tired, too much in pain, wanting the day over, so you both can go home and just rest. 

If Lady Luck shone on you, the meeting would only last half an hour, or maybe it wouldn't happen at all. Nothing of interest to report, anyway, except the fact he had to watch his parents die, again. And again. And again. It was an old pain, one you both share. For him, their death is a pain he thought he'd exorcised long ago. He'd wrapped it up tight, and buried it in one of the many dark corners of his mind. And for you, it was the loss of yet another best friend, this one your commanding officer from long ago. And seeing Kawalsky again, when you were both young and just beginning your careers. When he was still just as alive and as real as the man with whom you now share your life. 

But when has life ever been fair? 

He sighs, leaning against the wall, and tries to pull all the various layers closer, wrapping himself within the folds of emptiness. You want to go to him. But within these grey walls, you can do no more than place a hand on his arm. Show him small comfort against the pain. 

His eyes lift from the floor, so sad, alone. How do you share this? This deep emptiness that freezes out everything else but the mind numbing pain? You can try to forget. It's always easier to forget than to remember. If you can. 

He lifts off from the wall, staggers down the corridor, and you know the kindest thing you can do now is see the General and get time off. They all need it. You do. He does. The entire team. 

One of these days you'll both have to talk about it, but right now, the emotions are still too fresh. 

You get your reprieve. The General agrees to you having a few days off and filing the reports on Monday. Time to mourn, time to forget, time to back away, to separate yourself from the grief so you can speak coherently again. Yes, just what you needed. 

Suddenly you feel every one of your years, the weight of the passage of time pressing down on your shoulders. How many missions? How long have you been alone? It seems as if you've *always* been alone. Even when you were married. For how could you tell your wife that today you watched a man die? How did you tell *his* wife? 

You go off on a hunt. Time to pack it in and put this day behind you. You need sleep. Something to eat. A six pack of beer, maybe, to drown out the voices that scream in your head. 

Perhaps if you drink enough, tonight you won't dream. Or at least you won't remember when you wake, your head pounding so bad it could rival a freight train. Only one thing left to do. Find Daniel. Because you're his ride. 

You find him in the locker room already changed. He looks as lost as you feel, sat there on the bench lost in thought. "You ready to go?" You probe gently, breaking through the haze that's formed over his eyes. You wonder, 'What's going on in that head of yours? Is it as bad as mine?' 

He blinks, looks up at you, for a minute you swear he doesn't even know who you are. Then he gets his act together. One at a time, the emotions race across his face; denial, anger, need. 

"Yeah, just give me a minute," he answers, finally. As he closes the door to his locker, a shudder races through his body. He had to stop again, his forehead resting on the cold metal surface. Through it all, you're standing there, taking a strange comfort in his actions. It's as if he was you, and you were he. You speak. 

"You okay?" 

Again, that weird sort of dj vu comes over you. You know what he's going to say before he says it. "Um, yeah. You?" 

And you want to scream. Scream for the both of you. No, you're *not* okay. It will never be 'okay'. But instead, you put your mask back on and let your emotions slide back into place. "Fine." It comes out clipped, forced, and he flinches. You immediately want to take it back. Instead, you pat him on the shoulder to temper your words. "Let's go home." 

He nods and you both make polite noises. 

"Wanna talk about it?" 

"No, not really. You?" 

"No. I just want to get into bed and sleep until Monday." 

"Yeah, me too." Impatiently, you move toward the door, the itch to get out growing by the second. "Let's blow this Popsicle stand." 

You watch as he pastes a grin on his face but it doesn't reach his eyes. Never gets to the eyes. There's nothing but need there, a need that can't be acknowledged. Something dark and unfathomable. Powerful. Ageless. You have the horrible feeling the same could be said for yourself. Hopefully you can both keep your worlds together just a little longer. 

~~<<->>~~ 

And with one sentence, your world falls apart. 

"I don't want to go home." 

If only. If only. But you can deny him nothing. 

"You want to sleep over at my place?" 

"Do you mind?" 

"No." YES, your mind screams. To have him that close. You sigh, already lost. 

The ride home is fairly quick; your heart hammers in your chest, it stifles your breath. This isn't the time or the place to let him know. Know what? That you're frightened for the both of you? That you don't know if you can do this? That you aren't even sure what he's offering? 

Your hands shake as you stop the car in the driveway. There's still time to back out, to take him home. Then he takes your hand and shatters your world all over again. 

"Just this once. That's all I ask. One time." 

You nod. One time. You can do that. You're scared shitless. Don't want to think about tomorrow. This is just a dream, something you never, ever intended to act upon. But he asks and you can't refuse. 

You get out of the car. 

~~<<->>~~ 

There are times in life when the whole world boils down to one second, one tiny little blip on the clock. When you can't breathe, can't think, can't move, for fear of upsetting the balance. Yet everything up to this point rests on what you do next. It extends out, focusing every sense, every thought, onto that one instant, waiting for the answer. The moment is so strong you can taste the fear, breathe the excitement, literally every hair on your body reaching out, dancing to the electricity in the air. What do you do? 

There is no more powerful emotion than lust. Nothing which can compare to the moment when you become lost. Your heart surges. You sweat and you find yourself wiping your hands on your jeans, trying vainly to dry them off. Your mouth becomes dry. You can't do anything but stare. 

And sometimes you forget to think about the consequences. 

Or perhaps you just don't care. 

"Jack?" His voice breaks into your thoughts. 

"Hmm?" 

Nervous, he plays with your hand, the one that's splayed across his stomach, callused from years of use, from years of holding a gun. You can't help but feel as if he's searching for something. As if your hands somehow hold the mysteries of the universe and if he searches long enough he'll find them. 

You already know that it's exactly the opposite. The answers are in his. Strong hands, rough, honest, toughened by years spent digging through the soil of your world and many others. 

"Are you okay with this?" 

"With what?" 

"Us..." He struggles to voice his thoughts. Lying here next to him on the sofa was nice, normal, ordinary. Good. Naked flesh pressed to naked flesh. You smile against his neck, press a kiss to the tender skin reddened by your earlier rough groping. 

You never made it to the bedroom. The need was simply too strong. As soon as the door closed, he was on you. All that mattered was that you were naked, now. 

His hands buried themselves in your hair, he trapped you against the door with his body, hard, aching, wanting. His lips locked on yours, taking, taking, taking, until you couldn't breathe. And only the need to get to his skin as you scrambled to rid him of his shirt made him back off. 

And while you were busy gulping in air, he stole it again by yanking your shirt off. Skin came into contact with skin. Fire. Hands yanked at the button on your jeans, trying to get at more and you gasped. It was too much, too much, too much. You drowned. Lost. Fingers dipped into your jeans, pushing the zipper down as he searched, found. 

Oh god. Heat. Incredible heat as his hand wrapped around your cock for the first time. You almost came right there. 

Still he took. His mouth on your neck licking, sucking, mapping every inch. The door became your only means of remaining upright as he stole the strength from your body with every touch, every caress, every kiss, every stroke of his hands, his glorious hands, along your body. His tongue dancing, tasting, giving. 

Before you even realized it, he was sucking again, only lower this time, your nipple sending lightning flashes to your brain begging, pleading, and for what you have no idea. 

Only it's you begging, pleading, moans spilling helplessly from your lips; heat engulfed you, wrapping you in its blanket. His tongue danced from one to the other, his teeth gently scraping along the sensitive skin keeping you on the edge as his hand stroked you faster, higher. You're right *there*. On the cliff. Ready to tumble off. Your hands grasped for purchase on the door and found none. 

Suddenly everything stopped. 

Time stopped. 

Reality faded into nothingness. 

And just as suddenly, you breathed, moaned. One long, deep, shuddering, life affirming sound that started in the back of your throat, spilling over to the man at your feet who has your cock in his mouth. Hot. Wet. That talented tongue slid over every inch, his cheeks hollowed out as he sucked, swallowed, and pulled you deep, deep, deep within him. 

Oh. My. God. You can't take much more of this. Your knees are already threatening to buckle. His hands on your hips the only thing keeping you upright at the moment. Again, he swallowed, his tongue working the underside of your cock, and you knew that it was only a matter of time. 

It's all too intense. The fact that it's him, Daniel, on his knees doing this. You opened your eyes. You didn't even know you had them closed, but you had to see him. Had to make sure this is real. And that's all it took. One look at that brown/blond head with his lips surrounding you and his name was on 

your lips, screaming as you came, and came, and came. 

Falling...sliding...drifting to the floor. Gentle, loving hands guiding you. Worshipping you. Holding you. He murmured something next to your ear, but with the blood rushing through your veins you couldn't hear. Important. Have to pay attention. It's important. 

What's he saying? What? You blacked out. 

~~<<->>~~ 

Waking. 

Cold and warm at the same time. Comfortable and uncomfortable. Memory sparks as his tongue circles lazily around your nipple again and you can't find it in yourself to regret a moment. His hair, like silk, falls across your chest, each strand yet another caress. He must feel you waking because he looks up, a bashful smile on his face, his eyes dark, still showing how much he needs you. 

"Hey there." You have to touch him. Sometime while you slept, he'd undressed completely. Oh hell, this really was a wet dream come true. How he could stand to stay on this cold floor with no clothes on, you have no idea, but you thank whatever gods are listening that he did. You pull him down for a kiss, lips gentle, soft, thanking and promising in the same breath. His tongue touches, seeking entrance. In a day where denial has somehow become an unknown language, you wordlessly let him in. 

Little things you'd not noticed before begin to creep in. How soft his skin is. How perfectly his body fits with yours, the smoothness of his chest pressed so hard against your own. How wet and hot his tongue feels. The taste of coffee, sweat, tears. Tears? You pull away, holding his face, searching. 

The answer is there in his eyes. You can't help but stare. He's beautiful, even in the depths of a pain that runs so deep it hurts to look at him. Your thumbs run over his cheeks wiping away the evidence. You open your mouth to ask the obvious, but before you can his finger is on your lips and he shakes his head. His answer sits there between you, 'don't ask'. It's enough that he's here and you can both drown in each other. 

So you do the only thing you can, you hold him close, kissing every part of his face you can reach, his eyes, his temple, his cheeks, his lips, his ears, his neck, showing what you can't say. You want to go on kissing him forever, but the floor is getting uncomfortable and you want to show him more. Give back some of the pleasure that he gave you. So you sit, bringing him with you, then stand, pulling him toward the living room, your jeans barely hanging onto your hips, not wanting to let him go, never wanting to let go. But you have to. 

Tall, so very tall. You fit together perfectly, eye to eye, chest to chest... groin to groin. Oh gods, the images that invokes. You became hard just at the thought of it, imagining his sweat-slicked skin gliding along your own. His neck arches temptingly, Adam's apple struggling to swallow back moans as you suckle at the base. Breathing hard, you release his hand and take your jeans off. You want to make the dream a reality. His blue eyes darken beyond belief as he reads the want in your face. 

This is what you've been waiting for. 

Slowly, you lean down, push him back against the sofa cushions. And he arches his back just as you imagined, only far more intense, personal, wanton. His legs fall open as you settle between them, your mouth already feasting hungrily on his neck, his moans felt more than heard. 

And you become lost in the feel of him. His body, his hands, his skin beneath your tongue, the hard planes of his chest, his stomach, the tickle of the hair on his thighs brushing against your sides as you explore. 

A feast for the senses. 

He growls, his desire lighting under your fingertips, rumbling, its intoxicating tone driving you on, searching for yet another spot so you can hear that sound again and again and again. The power you hold right now to make him squirm, moan, to make his hands clutch frantically at your shoulders, seeking release. Oh God, it's you giving him this pleasure and that knowledge makes you feel like a king. You never want to stop, never want to let go. 

Right now, in this minute you own him. He owns you. And because he owns you, you do what he wants. He wants, he wants your mouth on his cock. How can you say no? Not after the way he took you, the way he gave you the best fucking blowjob of your life. Not that you've ever done this before, but what the hell, you're going to try. 

Your first taste explodes across your tongue in a weird mixture of musk, heat, salt and something else; something intoxicating. 

It's tentative at first, your exploration. Licking, tasting, testing your limits. How far are you willing to go to please him? How much of him can you take in your mouth? Why does this feel so wrong but so right at the same time? You push aside that little voice, forgetting it exists and just live in the moment; this one beautiful moment where there's nothing but silk and steel, slick skin sliding in and out of your mouth. His moans fill your ears. His hands tangle in your hair, holding, caressing, encouraging. 

He screams your name as he comes. 

You didn't have any warning, but you swallow, take a part of him inside yourself and know in that one moment that you'll never be, never see anything the same again. The heady rush begins to fade and you take him in your arms, you lay down just holding him. He falls asleep in your embrace, yours just for a little while. 

~~<<->>~~ 

"Jack?" He rolls over, drawing you from pleasant memories to face reality once again. "Oh, uh, sorry, Daniel." You touch him again, your hand on his face, memorizing. "Yeah, I'm okay with it." But your eyes lie, don't they? And he can see it, because you can see the answer in his. You want him, but you don't want to, for the alternative is too scary. What does this mean for you? About who you are? This wasn't some clumsy fumbling in the dark, jerking each other off in mutual need. It was *real*. 

~~<->~~ 

An end of a beginning, the beginning of the end. That's pretty much when everything started breaking down. After all, he was married, and you were straight. Weren't you? Aren't you? You still don't have an answer to that question, do you? All you do know is that the lust you once felt still lingers, biting, waking you in the night, needing, wanting. 

And you realize, regrettably, that you loved. Once. Loved, not lusted. And you no longer know who you are. 

You hurt. It hurts. Hurts from deep inside. You just want. Want so badly it hurts. Hurt so badly, you want. It's a vicious circle. 

What you wouldn't give to have it all disappear. To make the feelings disappear, the years. Sometimes the hell is so bitter that you wish you'd never met. And other days the memories are so fresh and sweet, you can't live without them. 

You don't know why you let him come over, only that the need was so strong you had to. There was no longer a choice. The desire to see, to feel, to touch, was the only thing that mattered. You really don't know what to expect. 

You touched him... 

And there between you are the two words that will never be spoken. Seen, known, touched, and tasted, but never heard. It would just make the dream real. And you can't have that. Then you'd have to face who and what you are. 

So you watch silently as he collects his things. He takes one last look. It's going to have to last for the rest of your life. You say your good-byes quietly, stopping at the door to recognize that one emotion you've always refused to name. 

Who ever said love was easy was right. It is easy. So very easy. All you have to do is open your eyes. 

It's living with love that's hard. It's the bleeding, the trust, the desperation, the need, the joy, the vulnerability, the happiness, the pain, and the forever that all go along with it that's hard. All those wonderful things that make love so great. Once you've loved, you will forever be alive. 

And as you close the door, you push it all down, refusing from this day forward to ever name it again. Until night calls, that is, forcing you to recall the way the sun plays across his skin, to feel his body underneath you, on top of you, hard, aching; you taste him on your lips, the smell of musk lingering in the air. Then, then you name it for what it was. 

~~<<->>~~ 

Now, you're just an old washed up excuse for a colonel, sitting in a bar. And you've only got yourself to blame. You should never have fallen in love. Should have left well enough alone. Should never have locked yourself off from the one person who could have put the pieces back together once again. 

And you did. You allowed yourself to love him. Once. It was the best-worst mistake you ever made in your life. 

Now there is only confusion within. 

And he no longer has a place in your life. There was a time when you looked into his eyes and knew respect, knew love, knew life. You could do anything, had the will to capture the wind if you so desired. But you changed. Hid behind that wall so successfully that illusion became reality and reality the illusion. 

All you see now is sadness, pain, and humiliation, each one brought by your own hands. Anger. Not even the friendship seems to have survived the fire. Scrubbed clean. A mere shadow of its former self, in which he struggles to grow without you there to catch him when he falls. And he does. 

Fall that is. And you let the darkness grow. 

At first it was only a small feeling...a tiny voice in the background, rustling, twisting, falling; tumbling over itself trying to get your attention. Barely noticeable at all. Easy to ignore. Yet it's insistent, that voice. Demanding to be heard. It pounds and pounds and pounds in your mind, a constant headache you can't get rid of. Each time, louder, stronger than before. A daily reminder of what was past, what can never to be forgiven. 

And you're left outside, destined to look in. 

You see him every day growing more and more withdrawn. Closing himself off. You barely talk off the job, start spending more time with Sam and Teal'c. Rebuild walls that had somehow crumbled. Layer upon layer, with mortar and stone, filling in the spaces, the cracks with tiny pebbles so nothing could get through. You can deal with this. Really, you can. 

Or at least that's the lie you keep telling yourself. You can't deal with any of it. Otherwise, would you really be sitting here in this bar trying to drink the memories away? 

~~<<->>~~ 

> > "Wars, once started, take on a monstrous life of their own." Paul Fussell on WWII - Experience of War. 

> > ~~<<->>~~ 

**II. Gilded Cages**

~~*@*~~ 

Just how is this game played? How long have we known? Suffering in silence In our enclosed spaces. 

~~~ 

You walk into the mess hall, your head pounding. It's been a while since you were this hung over. Could have done without the reminder, eh? You see him sitting at a table in the far corner with his head buried in his hands. What was he thinking? Was he thinking about...? You laugh bitterly to yourself, ready to walk right back out the door. You can't even think it. Where, what, who was he with last night? 

You're starting to draw attention to yourself, so figure you may as well get some coffee, sit down and try to make this headache go away. Close enough to hear him, yet not be seen. Comfort's drawn just from being near. Yep, God is surely laughing at you. 

He's become as hard as you pretended to be, more focused on the job. In fact this last year has been a mix of easy days and hard ones. Sometimes you touch, you talk easily. Other times you tread carefully, wary of making a mistake, trying to find your way back to the days when laughing together was simple. 

"You should cease this, DanielJackson." Teal'c's voice draws you from your inner musings. They don't see you. Or perhaps they just ignore you. You're not sure which. The big guy looks concerned. Daniel, he just looks pissed. 

"When I want your opinion, Teal'c, I'll ask for it." Daniel stands, his chair scraping loudly across the floor. He looks right at you then, his face unreadable. Well, that answers one question. He knew you were there all along. He stalks out, his meal untouched. Score one for Daniel. 

"What's eating him?" Sam sits down with Teal'c, her tray hitting the table with a thunk. 

"Some who call themselves his friends yet who turn away more and more each day. I do not like these events. I find that I am not hungry either." He places his silverware on his tray before collecting Daniel's and leaves to dispose of them both. Looks like that makes two of your teammates that you've pissed off. Care to try for three? 

The coffee is bitter, it's grown cold as you sat listening in the background, as you heard every word, felt every slap from your team. And you deserved every moment of it. Grimacing with distaste you drop your cup off, and make your way out of the mess hall as well. What did it say about your team when not one of them could stand to eat with one another? 

~~<<->>~~ 

You wander round the hallways, your hands tucked into your pockets. How long has it been now? Over two years since that day you made love to your best friend. A year since you almost destroyed even that. Six months since you killed the last of his old life with your own two hands. Rothman. You sigh. You can't take it back, undo it. 

Slowly, bit by bit, your team is starting to come together again. A little time spent underground as a totally different person helped. A few brushes with death all round seemed to cement a few things. Nothing like a little chaos and destruction to put things in perspective. 

Nothing like seeing Daniel standing on his balcony ready to jump. Or like seeing his heart stop. Seeing him lying dead on a gurney. Even now the memory is enough to make your soul shudder. And what did you do when he finally revived and you all got back to base? Nothing. It's about time to start clearing the air, don't you think? 

~~<<->>~~ 

You find him wandering the halls talking to himself, not that that is an unusual thing. Actually, you've stumbled over him in the hallways many times. Did your best to ignore him before, continuing on your way, and sometimes you just lurked in the shadows, like right now. 

"Well, if it's over, what am I doing here?" 

That's a question you often ask yourself. Why does he stay? Why do you? 

Time passed without you noticing. Dinnertime had come and gone. Your stomach growls, reminding you of just that fact. You'd walked through the entire day in a haze and didn't even realize it. Twenty-nine floors gone silent, with the exception of the quiet beep of the monitors that keep track of the world of the SGC, and one archaeologist. Maybe you can coax him out to eat? At least you'd be in neutral territory. 

"Daniel?" You startle him. He didn't know you were there. His face closes down right before your eyes. 

"What?" 

"You hungry? Wanna grab a bite to eat?" 

Warily, he accepts your invitation. You walk to his office, wait while he turns his computer off and grabs his jacket. You feel the weight of the quiet pressing down as you make your way to the surface, to your car. It's uncomfortable, begging to be broken. Just as you're about to make some inane comment about the weather, he beats you to it, getting straight to the heart of the matter. 

"How long are we going to play this game, Jack?" He leans against your car, careless of the wintry chill, arms folded across his chest. 

"Which game is that?" You unlock his door and put space between you. Now that the talk has finally come about, you're not so sure you want to have it. Nervously you play with your keys, keeping your head down. Maybe if you pretend, it'll all go away. 

"The one where you ignore me, I ignore that anything ever happened between us, and then we pretend that we're just friends." 

"Oh, that one." 

"Yes...*that* one." 

"Uh, maybe we could have this conversation some place just a little bit warmer?" Daniel shrugs his shoulders and gets in the car. You follow, start the car, but just sit there with your head on the steering wheel. 

"Why'd you do it?" 

"Do what?" 

"*IT*!" Daniel punches you in the shoulder. 

"Hey!" 

"Jack, you can't ignore it forever." 

"It was a mistake, Daniel. One I never plan on repeating. Got it!" 

"Oh yeah. I *got* that a long time ago but I still want an explanation. You owe me." 

"I don't owe you shit!" The tension between you is almost as heated as the air trying to pump itself into the car. You're just sitting there, glaring at each other, neither one of you ready to back down. 

He sighs, defeated, and looks away. "What is so hard about admitting you're attracted to men, Jack?" 

"It's very simple, Daniel. I. Don't. Want. To." 

"Don't ask, don't tell?" Part question, part statement, as if that's the answer he expected all along. 

It's not as simple as that. It's you; years of living in a prejudicial world where women were the norm and men jerked each other off. Those were the rules. It's not exactly easy to change years of conditioning overnight. How do you explain that it's not a military thing at all, but that it's you, simply you being afraid? Of yourself. Of him. Of what this means to your career, to the team. Hell, between the two of you, the team was already on shaky ground. "I..." Confused, you turn back to the wheel and put the car into gear. "Look, Daniel." You glance over at him, not sure where you stand, what to do. "I don't want to have this conversation. Can't we just go back to the way it was?" 

"Sure, Jack. Whatever." 

The drive turns out to be a blessing in disguise. At least the silence between you is companionable now. You wonder how much longer you can put it off. "Are you still hungry?" 

"No. Can you just drop me off at my apartment?" 

"Sure. Whatever you want, Daniel." As soon as the words are out of your mouth, you want to take them back. They sounded desperate, needy. What's worse, is he knows it too. 

"Do you *ever* think before you open your mouth, Jack?" 

"I'm sorry, Daniel. I..." The turn for his place is coming up. "I didn't mean for it to sound that way. If I was a...you know...into guys, you'd be at the top of the list. But after 45 years, I'm...just not looking for a lifestyle change." 

"And I suppose *that* is what I am?" Daniel snaps. Great, perfect. Just when things between you were starting to get on solid ground, you screw them up. He's right. You don't think when you're around him. There'd been so many times a fight could have been avoided if you'd stopped and chosen your words more carefully. Now you've pissed him off all over again. 

"I didn't say that!" So what *did* you mean then? Are you punishing him for your own flaws? Or are you mad at him because he knows who he is and you're still finding yourself? 

"Yes, you did. That's *exactly* what you meant." Daniel sits there, his hands fisted in his lap. You can almost see the steam coming out of his ears. Boy, you really fucked up this time. "I'm bi, Jack, not some pansy out to be screwed by anything that moves." 

You stop the car in front of his building, nearly in shock. "Is that what you think?" You turn, ready to cold cock him. And if he hadn't been totally serious, you probably would have. "You think that I..." Lost, you throw your hands up. 

"Well, what else am I supposed to think?" Daniel's elbow jabs you in the side as he struggles with his seatbelt. "That's how you've been acting, *Jack*. Like I've got the plague." Daniel opens the door, gets out, his voice as cold as the winter air that surrounds him. "Don't sit too close to the fucking queer, you might *catch* something." He sneers and slams the door in your face. 

What the fuck? You scramble out of the car, chasing after him. "Daniel, what in hell are you talking about?" 

Whirling around, he nearly hits you. "I could ask *you* the same thing!" 

"What do you mean?" You cross your arms, making him spell it out. Hell, if that's how he's going to act. 

"Oh, I don't know. First you're interested in me, you *fucked* me, and then you pretend it never happened." He's really hitting his stride now, his voice deathly calm. "Fine, I can accept that. You had your reasons. But then..." He steps close, invading your personal space. "Then you ... you start this 'tragic romance' thing with Sam, you used her, and all it did was make you miserable. What were you trying to prove, Jack? And who were you trying to prove it to, because it certainly wasn't *me*." 

Yeah, you've really fucked up, haven't you? So why do you keep pushing? 

"I think we're done here. I'm cold. I'm tired and *I'm* going to bed." Daniel unlocks the door to his building. "Go home, Jack." 

"Daniel, what am I to you?" He stops, his shoulders stiff. It's an honest question, but you're nervous. Maybe you've finally pushed him too far? How far can you push him until you lose him altogether? 

"You couldn't leave it alone, could you?" Daniel sags against the partially opened door, nearly losing his balance. He still won't look at you. 

"Daniel..." You move closer, clearly much closer than Daniel expects you to because he flinches when you put a hand on his arm. "I'm trying to...deal with it." 

"You know if you *dealt* with this thing between us any better, Jack, I'd hate you." You barely hear him, so softly spoken are the words. 

"What am I to you." 

"Oh no, Jack. You've got it all wrong." Daniel laughs bitterly, jerking his arm out of your grasp, and enters his building. He closes the door in your face. "All wrong," he mouths through the glass. 

"How?" You yell as he turns away from the glass window and heads for the elevators. Somewhere along the line over the last three and half years, you've fallen in love with Daniel. You ran from it. Hid from it. And then it bit you in the ass, and it made you see it for what it was...love. Guess it's time to stop running. 

Digging in your pocket, you pull out your keys, fumble with the lock, and follow him into the building. 

"Daniel!" 

"What!?" He stamps his foot and throws his hands in the air before jabbing the button for the elevator. Then he whirls around, turning to you angry, hands flying, his face flushed. "Can't you just leave me *alone*? What's it going to take!" The elevator doors open and he backs in. 

You follow him in, stalking him, edging into his personal space this time. "Why won't you answer the question, Daniel?" 

"Jack, let me make this as clear as possible to you. You. Don't. Want. Me." Daniel leans back against the elevator wall, his arms crossed. "Or as you put it...I. Don't. Want. To." He cocks his head to the side. "All I have right now is your friendship and even that's on pretty shaky ground. Is that clear enough for you, or should I repeat it in Latin?" 

"Yeah, I get it!" Backing off, you start to pace inside the elevator; your hands shake, clenching and unclenching. You're ready to explode you're so frustrated. "Why the fuck are you so angry with me?" 

The elevator stops at his floor. "My stop. See you later, Jack." 

"Fuck you, Daniel." 

"Don't you see; that's the problem." Daniel smiles self-deprecatingly. "You're still looking for the answers in the wrong place, Jack." The elevator doors shut, leaving you standing there in a daze and you scramble to hit the button and open the doors again. 

"What?" You stalk down the hall after him. 

He has his apartment door unlocked by the time you get there. "Don't follow me, Jack. Not tonight." 

"Just answer the God damn question." 

"You're smart," Daniel says. "You figure it out." 

The hell with this! You push Daniel into the apartment and slam the door shut. 

"Answer the question." You back him up into the wall, both of you breathing fast and heavy. God, he smells good. You lean into him, your arm on his chest waiting for his answer, angry and becoming aroused at the same time. 

"Leave me alone, Jack!" He pushes, trying to shove you aside, but you're not giving an inch. His body is hard under your hands. And you start to notice little changes from the last time you were this close to him. Fuck! 

"Not until you answer me," you growl. His hair is shorter. He's found a few more muscles. He's even more sure of himself now than he's ever been. 

"Go home, Jack. I've bared my soul enough for one night." 

"Daniel..." You're losing your anger, second by second, the heat building up between your bodies. You're confused, wanting him and not wanting to want him at the same time. 

"Jack." His lips are right there, yours for the taking. All you have to do is lean forward. Lean forward and... 

You shake your head, afraid of what almost happened; you start to back off. "I just want an honest answer." 

"As honest as the one you gave me?" Daniel laughs bitterly, as his hand slips between you, grabs your cock. "You're *so* fucking turned on right now, Jack. Just being this close to me is enough. So, fuck you." He shoves you off of him and you stagger back hitting the door as he stalks off towards the kitchen. 

Rubbing your shoulder, you follow him. "Daniel, I'm here. I'm trying. Okay?" 

Daniel bangs the cabinet shut after he pulls out the coffee, slams the can on the counter and grabs the pot. "Then answer your own question, Jack. What do I mean to you." 

"I...You..." 

"Forget it. Leave it alone, Jack. Leave *me* alone." He turns back to the sink, turning on the water, ignoring you. 

Grabbing Daniel's arm, you jerk him around to face you - water splashes everywhere. "You're not pissed at me at all, are you? You're angry at yourself." 

Careful now, precise, Daniel sets the carafe on the counter. "Bingo, give the man a cigar." Daniel pulls his arm free, turns the water off, and heads for the living room. 

"Why!?" Fuck, could he just stay in one place long enough to finish a conversation? Pissed off, you follow him again. You wouldn't be having this 'little talk' if Daniel hadn't started it in the first place. And now you're going to finish it, come hell or high water. 

"Because I'm in love with someone who refuses to even admit he *likes* me!" 

"So when were you planning on telling me?" 

"Uh, never?" That sarcastic edge is back in his voice again, and it grates on your nerves. "I'm in love with you, Jack. Satisfied now?" 

He stands there with his hands wrapped tightly around his body, almost shaking he's that pissed at you. You don't know whether to hit him or...or... Hitting him is definitely winning out. Oh yeah, *definitely* wins out. You give in; you slug him. 

He hits the floor, hard. Damn, that felt good. You stand there over him, your hand throbbing, fists clenched tightly, ready to swing again. He just sits there for a minute, breathing harshly. 

"Feel better?" 

"No." 

Livid, he comes up swinging, taking you off guard. His fist catches you right in the jaw, snapping your head back, and sends you tumbling over the back of the sofa. 

"Don't like the answer? Well, fuck you, Jack. You wanted to know." 

You shake your head to clear out the stars. Damn can he pack a punch. "Damn it, Daniel!" Frustrated, you get up and pace around the room. "I *don't* want to feel this way!" 

"That's not *my* problem. And I'm sick and tired of taking the blame for it." Warily, he keeps the sofa between you. "You didn't have to say yes. That was your choice. You deal with it." 

"I couldn't!" You plead with him. "You don't know, Daniel. You have no idea what it's like." You move closer, within easy reach. You want to somehow get through to him. These past two years have been hell. 

"I don't know?" Daniel snorts scornfully. "I think I've got a pretty good idea. The last two years you've shown me exactly what 'it's like'. You barely trust me to do my job!" 

"I'm sorry, Daniel." Sighing, you sit down on the couch. 

"What's this all about, Jack? It can't be the idea that I want more from you than friendship, because I've already told you I don't." Daniel comes around the sofa and sits down on the coffee table now that you've calmed down. 

"You and me." 

"There isn't a 'you and me', Jack." 

"That's the problem. I want it." 

"What!?" 

Sheepishly you shrug your shoulders. "What can I say? I'm an asshole." 

"You want...me?" 

"Yeah, but" 

"There's always a fucking 'but' with you." He hits you on the leg, and starts to get up. 

"Ow! Can I please finish what I was going to say before you start punching again? I'm not exactly healed from the last time." Exasperated, you haul Daniel on the sofa next to you. 

"You started it." 

"Yeah, I did." 

"So, go on." 

"All I was going to say is that I'm not ready..." You pause, thinking about your words carefully. "I want to try. If you do." 

"I need to think about it." 

"So what do we do now?" 

"I wish I knew." Daniel leans back against the sofa, slightly away from you. "I wish I knew." He fiddles with his pants for a second. "Jack, I want to ask you something and I need you to answer me honestly." 

"What's that?" 

"Why don't you trust me?" 

Jesus. How do you answer that? "I do, Daniel. I'm just...afraid." 

"Really? I never would have guessed." Daniel gets sarcastic again. 

"You want to hear this or not?" You glare at him. 

"Sorry." 

"I..." You stare blankly at the wall in front of you, still scared to say anything but it's the only way to breech the gulf. "I needed to know where I stood with you. After that mission with the Rogue Team I wasn't sure of anything anymore." 

"You set yourself up for that one. You knew just which buttons to push to turn the entire team against you." 

"Hey, I said I was sorry! How could you guys think that was me? Hell, didn't you even suspect...you should've known, Daniel. After that, I didn't know what to think." 

"Jack, I'm sorry. You were so busy pushing me away, I didn't have time to get a word in edge wise. And you've been pushing ever since." 

"I've never been very good with relationships." 

"Well, I don't exactly have a good track record either." 

"Think we can start over again?" 

"Why?" 

"Because, Daniel." You sigh. 

Daniel sighs again. "That was *your* choice, Jack. Not mine." 

"I realize that." 

There's a knock at the door. Well, with all the noise you'd made, was that any surprise? Let's just hope it isn't the cops. Daniel looks at you like it's entirely your fault. 

"You get it." 

"You get it, it's your apartment." 

"It's for you anyway." 

"How do you know?" 

"Because if it was for me, my neighbors would have knocked long ago." 

You snort. "Are you sure about that? Maybe it's the cops? Besides, my jaw hurts. I don't feel like explaining why I'm sporting a bruise." 

"If you hadn't been such a shit, I wouldn't have hit you." 

"You started it." 

"Did not." 

"Did too." 

"Did not." 

"Did too." 

"Did not." 

"Too." "Not!" 

"Too!" 

"Would you just answer the damn door?" 

"All right, I'm getting it, I'm getting it." Daniel moans as he gets up and goes to answer the door. 

He calls from the hallway. "See, I told you Jack. It's for you." 

"Who is it?" 

"See for yourself." 

You lean your head back and look down the hall. "Carter! Teal'c! What are you guys doing here?" You get up as they come in, surprised, and join Daniel leaning back against his desk. 

"Well...." Sam blushes slightly and stammers. 

"MajorCarter has been bribing one of Daniel's neighbors in order that she may be informed of the day you two finally take to hitting each other." 

"What!?" 

Sheepishly, Sam shrugs her shoulders. "I wanted to make sure you didn't kill each other. Nothing Teal'c or I did seemed to be working so..." 

"You figured one way or the other we'd end up hauling off and hitting each other? Daniel...Sam thinks we're cavemen. We should be insulted." 

"Jack, have you looked at your face lately? We *are* cavemen." 

Sam laughs. "So, I take it you aren't going to kill each other, right?" 

You look at Daniel and he looks at you, and you both answer at the same time. "No." 

"God, No." Daniel shakes his head. 

"Okay...come on Teal'c, we're going. We'll let you two talk. Daniel, I'll see you at work tomorrow." Sam hugs him and nods in your direction. "Colonel." 

"Major." 

You wave to Teal'c who turns to follow Sam and Daniel to the door. "See you later." 

"I am happy to see you and Colonel O'Neill have resolved your differences." 

"Yeah, thanks. Both of you." You hear the door close. 

"Daniel?" You call when he doesn't reappear. 

"Yeah?" He finally returns, his hands crossed over his chest. Damn, Sam had the worst timing. 

"Come here." You pat the sofa next to you since Daniel seemed to be rooted to the floor half way across the room. 

"I don't think that's a good idea right now." 

"Daniel, I need to talk to you, and right now, you are too far away." 

"Okay..." Daniel nervously sits back down. "What do you want to talk about?" 

"Us." 

"Us?" 

"Yeah, us, as in you and me." 

"Uh, look, Jack. Nothing's changed. You're still you and I'm still me. Yeah, it'll be uncomfortable for a while, but we'll get through it. Okay?" Daniel looks so serious. "I don't want to push you into something you aren't ready for. I can't afford to lose you as my friend, Jack." 

"What if I don't want you as my friend?" You turn to him. "What if I want more?" 

"Jack, be very sure. I couldn't stand another year like this one. I..." 

"Daniel, shut up." You grab his face and kiss him. Coming up for air, you say the first thing that pops into your head. "I can't afford to lose you, period." 

"I don't know, Jack. What if you wake up tomorrow and decide this is all a mistake again?" 

"I'm not going to." 

"Why?" 

You shrug your shoulders. "I'm tired of fighting it, Daniel." 

"So what do we do now?" 

"We go to bed, and sort the rest of it out in the morning." 

"Do you think that's wise?" 

"Take a leap of faith; with me." 

"I dunno, Jack." 

"Daniel..." 

"I know. I know. Shut up." 

"Smart man." 

He helps you to your feet and leads you to the bedroom. You both fall onto the bed fully dressed. Not much chance of anything happening here tonight; you already know that you're going to have to take this really slow...one step at a time. That was your mistake the first time around...moving way too fast. 

"You know. If we'd just had this fight years ago..." 

"No..." 

"No?" 

"I wasn't ready yet, Daniel. Besides..." You pull him into your arms. 

"I'd have wanted more." 

"I can do more. Just...let's take it slowly." 

"I can do that." He snuggles close to you, falling asleep, but your mind isn't ready to sleep just yet. As the hours pass, you wonder what your life might have been like without him. 

Would you have ever found happiness? 

Happy? That's a relative term, isn't it? Relative to the time and people around you. 

Would you have cared? Even been able to care? 

Maybe, because of the time and place, like right now, you no longer care. You'd already been empty for so long. Alone. Waking safely alone with no one to care. 

And now... 

Now you live. 

You hurt. You want. You ache. You trust. You need. You want forever. You bleed. You...*feel*.

You love...

It was a stupid question really, because you already knew the answer.

Because when you're with him, the hardest parts are still the best a man can take. And tomorrow, you won't be waking up alone.

Finally, you put your ghosts to rest and allow yourself to sleep.  
 


End file.
